by Judy Astley
Bath. Ned raced into the bathroom, suddenly terrified he’d find Cynthia herself hanging from the shower hook (bringing the holiday’s potential body count up to three – a running total outdoing the worst sink prison and sure to cause the hotel the loss of at least one star from its rating). Nothing different in there either, but still that lingering, elusive hint of perfume. What to do about it? Nothing he could do, he concluded as he returned to sit on the bed and give in to a feeling of helplessness. He would have to ignore it – if he said anything to Cynthia she’d take it as revived interest. And suppose it hadn’t, after all, been her? What kind of fool would he look?
Ned felt his heart rate gradually subside to something close to normal. To give it a few more recovery moments he relaxed back on the bed and reached for his copy of Coral Reef Fishes. That afternoon they’d seen some brilliant little fish, a shoal of the most starting cobalt blue ones, some with vivid yellow tails, close to where one of the yachts was moored. ‘Hanging about where there might be food, do you think?’ Len had asked him as they swam back together. Ned had agreed they probably were, not liking to point out, knowing this as an experienced diver, that the food in question was less likely to have been temptingly offered over the boat’s side by keen fish-spotters than to have been stuff flushed out from the lavatory tanks. Often, in the sea, it was better not to think about how some species got by.
Feeling cramped and uncomfortable, Ned shifted the pillow behind his neck and flicked through the book’s pages. Those were the ones, blue tangs. Between three and twenty-eight centimetres. That sounded about right. They were described as ‘unafraid’, which was rather sweet, he thought, smiling at the memory of the little fish as they crowded around the snorkellers, eager and bustling as riverside ducks sensing a toddler approaching with bags of stale bread.
Something fell softly to the floor as Ned shifted. Something made of diaphanous cream fabric and black ribbon. He reached down and picked up Cynthia’s knickers. No doubt now. He even recognized them. He remembered buying them for her – an expensive, spontaneous, and so unwise present back in March.
‘Unafraid’. He caught sight of the word again as he closed the book. If only. Bizarre, he thought. Never in his life had he imagined he’d really, really envy a fish.
Oh it felt so good to get out of the hotel. Beth sat back in the taxi and savoured the usual vicious air conditioning, feeling her skin tingle in the unaccustomed chill. A reggae version of ‘White Christmas’ was booming from the driver’s radio, and he had decked the windscreen with so much plastic mistletoe and holly that Beth wondered how he was managing to see the road. It was his choice, she told herself firmly, nothing to do with her, and she looked instead at the view of the moonlight on the sea from the side window. She was not interested in problems tonight, feeling she’d already done her good-deed bit. In the few hours since coming back from the snorkelling trip, she had listened to Lesley as she’d told her all about the dead Mr Benson, reassured Gina that her mother hadn’t caused rumpus and outrage and had comforted Len, close to weeping into his beer, as he confided his fears that his wife was losing her marbles. And this was supposed to be a holiday. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would spent most of the day in the Haven indulging in full-on pampering, from Indian Head Massage down to Peppermint Foot Treatment.
Delilah sat sighing between Nick and Beth, making her feelings clear about being forced (as she saw it) to endure an evening in the town with her family.
‘We never go out at home “as a family”. We keep doing it here!’ she’d wailed, raising her fingers in mock quote marks. ‘Why can’t I just stay behind and hang out with Sadie?’
‘Come on, you’ll enjoy it! You want to see more of the island, don’t you?’ Beth cajoled her. ‘Anyway, we’d like you to come.’ And then, for the first but probably not the last time, she’d pulled the big parental-blackmail one with: ‘Indulge us, please, Delilah, we’re getting old.’
‘Oh God, don’t lay that guilt-trip one on me!’ Delilah huffed crossly. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to start on like that nutter Dolly that you’re gonna drop down dead any minute! I can’t handle it!’
‘So come with us then,’ Beth had bargained. ‘There’s a sort of Christmas street carnival on with lots of stalls and music. For supper we can pick up some roti from a stall and we might see nice things to buy.’
The girl’s eyes had lit up briefly, tempted by the bait of shopping, but even as the car pulled away from the hotel she was looking anxiously out of the rear window, in search, Beth could tell, of the so-elusive, so-desirable Sam. If it wouldn’t lead to an outburst of furious denial and an accusation of interfering, she’d tell Delilah she was wasting her angst: she’d heard the receptionist mention to another guest that it was Sam’s night off from jollying the guests along and he was going into the town. Even Gina wouldn’t be able to have a shot at him. Delilah, contrary as any teenager, would not thank her for pointing this out.
As they sped along the bumpy highway into Teignmouth, Beth glanced at Ned, sitting in front beside the driver. He was looking troubled, his eyes miles away, worrying about something. It made her uneasy and she’d have to be careful not to be annoyingly overcheerful to try to compensate. Since his affair, she’d tried so hard to stop taking on everything that wasn’t comfortable, physically or emotionally, as if it was down to her, and only her, to sort out. Not easy, this, when every family gripe, every sulk, every problem had been brought to her to deal with ever since the children were born. But Ned wasn’t a child. The affair had been a scalding reminder of that fact. After the initial almighty shock of it, apart from telling him that if it really was over, if he really wanted to stay with her, it would be OK, she had tried hard not to behave in a mumsy way towards him. He wanted a lover, he’d made that clear: not an extra mother.
It would have been easy, given the amount of sorrowful regret he’d expressed, to comfort him as if he was a hurt infant and tell him it was all right, it didn’t matter, all over now. But, however over it might be, it did matter. The hurt to Beth had run deep and he understood that. She wasn’t going to keep picking at the pain but it was still relatively recently healed and fragile. All the talking through had been done but sometimes there were questions she had to bite her tongue from asking. A few big ones came to her now: did he regret giving up the woman? Did he miss her? Stop this, she told herself. Next thing, the worst question would muscle its way through . . . and it did. Was he thinking he’d rather be here with her? Stop that right now, she told herself. If Ned wanted to be with someone else he would be.
The cab pulled up alongside the harbour where the first of the stalls had been set up. Beth climbed out and sniffed the hot night air, pungent with spices and exotic cooking smells from every street corner.
‘We won’t starve, anyway,’ she said to Delilah, trying to entice her into a good mood.
‘We wouldn’t have starved at the Mango. I don’t know why you went for All Inclusive if you’re going to keep coming out for food,’ was the tart reply.
‘All Inclusive isn’t good for the local economy,’ Nick told her as they set off along the stall-lined street that was crowded with both islanders and tourists. ‘You’re just paying money into fat-cat hotel chains abroad rather than the island. It’s your duty to go out and offload cash, put something in.’
‘Thanks for the lecture Nick, but I did know that actually.’
‘Well bloody cheer up and enjoy yourself then, you miserable slapper!’ he teased, grabbing her from behind and tickling her.
‘Nick geroffme!’ Delilah shrieked, but he’d achieved a result, Beth could see. Despite her determination to sulk, Delilah was at last laughing.
There was a cruise ship in the harbour, a monstrous thing, towering over the small port like a giant iceberg hung with lights. It was unusual to see one staying overnight – as a rule they left the island soon after sunset, making their way out towards the horizon to invade the next island on their itinerary, sending
thousands of trippers at a time to raid the markets and craft stalls of the next port. It seemed rather sad to Beth that they did all the actual voyaging in the dark and while the passengers slept, as if they should not for a moment be bored by having nothing to do except look at the ocean. She’d find that rather restful, she thought, that calm, isolated progress over the sea and out of sight of land, getting a feeling for the distances between islands rather than being presented with them like a surprise gift each morning. You might as well fly, otherwise.
‘I suppose now you two are getting so old you’ll start going for holidays on those things.’ Delilah pointed to the ship.
‘I don’t think so.’ Ned shuddered. ‘It would be like taking a small city around with you. How do you escape? You can’t just grab a cab or hire a car and disappear into the rain forest whenever you fancy a change.’
‘You don’t do much of that, Dad, come on.’
‘No, but I can, that’s the point.’
‘He’s right,’ Beth agreed. ‘And when you see TV ads for cruises, they show people doing things like rock-climbing and diving and lazing on deserted beaches – all things you don’t actually do on board. Got to be a reason for that.’
Beth and Delilah inspected every stall for jewellery bargains and bought several necklaces made from intricate shell and beadwork. Nick picked up a mask carved from coconut shell. ‘This reminds me of Delilah,’ he said, holding it up over his own face. ‘Look, its mouth is all turned down like hers is when she’s in a strop!’
‘I so don’t look like that!’ Delilah yelled, hitting him with her bag.
‘Actually, she does a bit,’ Ned whispered in Beth’s ear. She felt her skin tingle as his breath wisped across her neck. She giggled and turned to him. ‘Are you hungry? Shall we get something to eat?’
He looked at her as if he hadn’t quite understood the question. Jesus, she thought, if only she hadn’t said that. After all her no-motherish resolutions, what could be more of a lust-zapping maternal question than that? Could do better, she told herself, much better. She’d work on getting seductive, she vowed, and entice Ned into the Haven. Lovers’ Massage, here we come.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he said now. ‘There’s a roti stall just past that girl selling paintings. Let’s go. Nick? Delilah?’
Beth and her family sat in a line along the harbour wall. She tried to eat fast to avoid making a horrible mess, dripping the contents of her chicken roti as the doughy casing became soggy. It was a rich mixture of spiced chicken with vegetables, all mixed together in an unleavened wrap like a giant tortilla. The thing reminded her of a tiny baby swaddled in a blanket and she’d felt ludicrously hesitant about taking a first bite.
‘Yo! There’s Sadie and Mark!’ Nick yelled, waving at a group of people walking towards them. And Michael, Beth could see, was with them and a couple of others. She recognized Ellis who helped with the hotel’s water sports, Melina the manicurist from the Haven and also Sam. Beside her, she could feel the instant that Delilah noticed him, sensed her attention being focused. The besotted girl’s hormones must be surging crazily, and Beth crossed her fingers that Sam was old and sensible enough to keep Delilah at a safe distance and that she’d go home happy enough with what might have been, rather than anything more turgid.
‘Hey, all,’ Nick said, jumping down from the harbour wall and greeting them as they approached. ‘Whass ’appening?’
‘We’re going on to a club after we’ve hung out here for a bit,’ Sadie told him. ‘You two want to come with us?’
‘Are all of you going?’ Delilah looked at Sam, who smiled lazily. Beth thought quickly; should Delilah, so recently so very ill, have to be dragged miserably back to the hotel with her and Ned, or should she let her go and trust her to slow down when she got tired? If she overdid it and relapsed now, she could end up wasting the rest of the holiday in bed, feeling horrendous.
‘Yeah, all of us, even Dad!’ Sadie said, flinging an arm round Michael. ‘It’s a blues place and it’s his thing. Come with us, bridesmaid!’ she said to Delilah. ‘We can make this a sort of hen night.’
‘And take the stags along for the ride,’ Sam added, aiming his frankly speculative smile at Delilah.
‘Parents? You don’t mind if we abandon you, do you?’ Nick asked, already moving into the group and pulling an eager-eyed Delilah along with him.
‘What do you think, Ned?’ Beth asked him.
‘Well, I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about going clubbing, myself, but . . .’ he replied, gleefully aware he was keeping Delilah in agonized suspense.
‘Like we were asking you to!’ Delilah hissed at him through her teeth.
‘Thanks Del!’ Ned laughed, ‘I’ll remember that next time you want a lift somewhere and access to my wallet. Go on then, enjoy yourselves. And Michael you’re a brave man, keeping up with this lot.’
‘Nick – take care of her, won’t you?’ Beth whispered to him. ‘And don’t let her do anything . . . stupid.’
‘Mum – hey, she’s safe with us. No worries, OK?’
‘Just you and me then,’ Ned said to Beth as the taxi pulled up in front of the Mango hotel. ‘Anything you fancy doing now?’
‘Nothing particular. Do you want a drink in the bar? We could see if Len and Lesley are in there. Or we could go back to the room?’
‘No, wait . . .’ Ned grabbed her hand and led her towards the terrace. ‘What about your stroll on the sand? Shall we do that first?’
Cynthia’s knickers were stashed in his pocket. They’d been burning a hole in it all evening. He’d had to get them out of the room but hadn’t yet had a minute without Beth in which to get rid of them. When they’d been crossing the road in the town, he’d thought about how it would be if he was run over and someone found them. He pictured a nurse handing over his possessions in a black bin liner, and Beth taking them all out, finding the silky pants that weren’t hers. They had to be disposed of. He hadn’t had a chance in the town – now perhaps he’d be able to leave them in one of the bins on the beach.
‘Are we going to lie on the beach and gaze at the stars like the honeymooners do?’ she laughed.
‘Sure. Why not?’
Ned took hold of Beth’s hand, and headed down towards the sea’s edge. He needed to walk thirty or so yards further on before he could pick out which of the rooms on the end building was theirs. He wasn’t sure quite what he expected to see, but he felt he had to reassure himself that Cynthia wasn’t up there leaning over their balcony or exploring their room, waving the beam of a torch around. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the silk fabric. Shame really, they’d been so very expensive but they had to go. No way was he going to join in Cyn’s mad games by handing them back to her, not even by sliding them under her room door. With his luck Bradley would be on the other side, would open the door just as he was about to make his escape and all would be discovered, pointlessly and for nothing.
Beth was paddling now in the white-frilled shallows, carrying her shoes and holding her skirt up. She looked, Ned thought with a surge of affection, like a carefree twenty-something. A couple of tiny lights showed beneath the line of trees higher up the beach – the glow of cigarettes from a couple sprawled in the dark on a pair of sun loungers. Could they be Cynthia and . . . who, Ned wondered; Bradley didn’t smoke. No, it wouldn’t be her; it could be anyone. There were close to two hundred hotel guests to choose from. Delilah would tell him he was getting paranoid. She’d be right.
Ned looked up as they reached the spot beneath their room. No sign of life, not a flicker. Please, he prayed silently, don’t let her have been roaming about in there again.
‘Beth?’ he called softly to her as they approached the far end of the beach and the sailing area. All the Hobie Cats were pulled safely up the beach and locked together with chains to prevent drink-sozzled guests from taking it into their heads to go out on the ocean for a moonlight sail and get themselves drowned. Beth hadn’t heard him and was still in the sea, l
ooking out at a distant ship. Quickly, he slipped Cynthia’s pants into a big wooden bin beside the water-sports hut.
‘Beth?’ he called again. This time she heard him and padded up the beach to join him. He tried the door of the hut and peered in through the shutters.
‘Ned, what are you doing? It’s sure to be locked!’ Beth giggled.
He grinned. ‘I was just thinking about that squashy old sofa in there and the view of the ocean. Worth a try anyway.’
‘We’ve got a lovely big comfy bed back in our room!’ she laughed, pulling him away from the hut. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, putting his arm round her and pulling her close. ‘But a change of venue can be very stimulating . . .’
When they reached the steps to their block, Beth turned to look back at the hut, wondering what on earth Ned would find so thrilling about making love among ropes, anchors, cans of boat diesel and racks of water skis.
‘Hey look at that!’ She pulled Ned into the shelter of the stairwell as she spotted movement by the hut. ‘There was someone in there all the time!’ And so there had been. Ned watched, feeling like a spy, as a couple slid out of the door. Please, he thought, please don’t let them investigate to see what I put in the bin.
The two from the hut kissed briefly and the woman started walking (thank goodness) along the beach in the direction of the pool terrace.
‘Well! You couldn’t mistake who that is!’ Beth said. ‘That long blonde flag of hair could only be Gina’s. The woman never stops!’
The man whistled softly and Gina turned, waving and blowing him a kiss before continuing on her way.
‘And that,’ Ned told her, ‘is Carlos. I only hope she hasn’t knackered him too much for the diving tomorrow. You’ll know who to blame if we get washed up on the shore of Tobago.’
